Redemption
by Professor Obihiro
Summary: Sean Obihiro is a man with a haunted past. Can he overcome his obstacles to become a hero?
1. Chapter 1

**Redemption**

It was night – not just night, but the deepest, darkest kind of night. You know, like the kind of night they make horror movies about. The rain was driving down like liquid artillery; ear-splitting cracks of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning lighted the scene. The ocean was a boiling, churning mass of confused waves, running like a crowd of petrified people. Rocks rose here and there out of the sea. It was a night to make any sane person cower in their bed in terror.

I must not have been sane.

It was the worst storm that the area had ever seen. A hurricane had come up the east coast of the United States not long before, and had died away. However, the resulting low-pressure weather system upset the equilibrium of the local climate and – well, to put it in layman's terms, it made a really big storm. And I don't think I was entirely sane at the time, because I was driving a small boat right through the middle of it.

**Chapter 1**

An omniscient observer looking from the clouds over the coast of Maine would have seen a small boat bobbing on the surface of the Atlantic. This observer would have been quite puzzled though, because the boat was not going towards the shore, but away from it. The boat was being tossed about like a toy of giants, as the waves picked it up and threw it playfully across the frantic surface of the sea.

I stood at the helm of the small cabin cruiser – well, not exactly stood. More like I barely managed to stay upright. The only reason I could even keep my balance at all was my martial arts training; I was told that I was agile and strong, but I always figured I would use that in combat. I never imagined it would come in handy on a boat. I compensated for every twist and turn of my craft as I searched the horizon ahead, but found nothing; the spray and the rain made heaven and earth seem to be one solid mass of water. The sea spray whipped into my face, soaking me. I never acknowledged it. My mind was somewhere far away from the boat I was piloting.

I was trying to find the WWW Island.

It wasn't really named the WWW Island, but that was what everyone called it. The island was small, only about an acre. It was completely uninhabited, mostly because it lay in a section of continuously stormy sea, known for its rocks and whirlpools. Its only visitors were the seagulls.

That is, until Wily came.

(S)(S)(S)

Dr. Andrew Wily was a top scientist at Scilab, the international science center. He was in charge of research on robotics. In his field, he was the master – people would come to him for advice as the world's recognized expert on automation and artificial intelligence. He was at the top of his profession, widely respected by his peers, leader of one of the most cutting-edge fields of research at the world's largest scientific institution.

Then he vanished.

Wily had had a falling-out shortly before with Thomas Hikari, leader of the team researching the computers and the World Wide Web. Hikari was a great success story – he was only thirty-two, and already was responsible for the rise of the three-dimensional web, the PET (**P**ersonal **E**lectronic **T**erminal), and the widespread integration of web technology into every aspect of life in most countries. He had been working with Wily on the crowning achievement of both of their careers – the Internet Navigator, or NetNavi for short. This program would reside in each person's PET and integrate, under one central artificial intelligence, a variety of programs designed to make the life of every person easier. When they finished the work, Wily made a copy of the completed NetNavi and walked out of the Scilab building, never to return.

Wily's whereabouts remained a mystery for twenty-two years, during which time Thomas Hikari died. After his death, his son carried on his work, inheriting his father's office and position at Scilab. He was responsible for many of the improvements to the NetNavi design over the years. His work was instrumental in the further development of the Internet.

Suddenly, Wily came back on the scene with his terrorist organization, the WWW. The WWW was different than most terror organizations in that it operated completely within the confines of the cyberworld. Nonetheless, because of the widespread integration of the Internet, his henchmen were able to wreak immense havoc all over the world. Wily, though, was finally defeated in his plot by Lan Hikari, grandson of Thomas, and his Navi Megaman.exe.

Wily still had not learned though. He tried again, this time moving his headquarters to a remote island off the coast of Maine – the WWW island. Lan once more defeated him and destroyed his threat to society, Alpha. However, the facility stayed intact.

I knew of this island only from stories my friends had told me. About how Cossack had used one of Wily's inventions and nearly died; about how Tora had nearly been electrocuted to death by another one; about how Dex had been nearly killed by one of Wily's tanks; about Chaud's brush with death by flamethrower; about Lan's close call at the hands of a computer-controlled drill. I remembered what they had said about the completeness of the facility, about the strange inventions that lay within. It was time for Wily's fortress to be brought to life once more.

(S)(S)(S)

Ahead of the boat, through the mist and spray, I saw a dark form start to take shape low on the horizon. I smiled as the boat leapt forward towards it. This would be the perfect hideout. I definitely needed a place to lie low for a while, and WWW Island just about fit the bill.

The boat slowed to a crawl as I eased back the throttle, then bumped gently against the rocky pier. I leapt out quickly with a mooring rope and tied the boat up. I looked like a drowned rat. My jeans were completely soaked, my turtleneck was quite damp, and my scarf hung over my shoulder like a skinny tail. My black trench coat hung in dripping folds around me as I looked up for the first time at Fortress Wily.

It was tall and dark, and hung like a foreboding mass on the skyline. Up above, I could see the craggy rocks that served as the foundation for each story. There were low buildings which squatted on their haunches above each outcropping; peering closer, I could see that they were windowless, and had only one door. I could see a few of Wily's infamous computer-controlled tanks, now silent and still on the ledges above me. Above them were menacing skull statues, designed to scare off any snoopers. At the very top of the complex sat an immense satellite dish pointing up to the heavens.

Not a very inviting place.

I spoke, mainly to hear the sound of a human voice in these eerie surroundings. "I really should get moving." My voice echoed back at me off the uninviting gray walls as I turned to get my bags out of the boat. I walked boldly towards the front entrance across the wet, slippery rocks and grabbed the door handle.

Locked.

"Bloody door…," I muttered through my teeth as I pulled out my PET. This particular PET had no Navi inside it, but it contained quite a few useful programs. It was designed to use some very old software, designed before Navis were even around. A few of these programs were even better than most Navis at cracking encryptions.

I pulled a screwdriver out of my pocket and attacked the electronic lock, forcing the plastic box open. I clipped the PET to two of the wires and set to work. A small dialog box appeared in the PET's main window.

**Username:**

**Password:**

"Okay, there's the crack window, it's running fine," I said, somewhat relieved. I leaned against the wall for a minute, watching the progress of the crack program. The PET chimed, and I leaned over and looked. "Well, well…" I chuckled.

**Username:** Andrew Wily

**Password:** evilgenius2010&

The old man obviously had a sense of humor. At least that's something to be said for him.

I hit the Enter key on the onscreen keyboard. I heard the sharp snick of the lock sliding away, then tried the doorknob. The door opened, and I stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the burned smell that hung over everything. There were smoke stains on the walls, and a few of the girders on the ceiling were melted and burned almost all the way through. This room was full of computers: the walls were covered in monitors, and along the walls were an assortment of different systems. In the middle of the room was a large machine with many cables running to it. All of the machines were dead right now, having no electricity. There was no light at all, not so much as one little LED to light my way. I dropped most of my bags, pulled a flashlight out of my pocket and kept going deeper, little puffs of dust following my every step. The dust coated my clothes liberally, turning them a sooty gray as I walked through the room. I reached the end and stepped into an elevator. It dinged and began to carry me upwards.

I looked around the inside of the elevator as it went upwards, trying to see if it had anything useful inside it, or even any trapdoors. On the floor, in the corner, was a PET. I picked it up and looked at the name, written on a paper label on the outside. It said "Cossack". _Wait a minute_, I thought. _Cossack is the one who made Bass.exe, the ultimate Navi_. On a whim, I decided to turn the PET on.

Nothing.

_Oh well_, I thought,_ it's probably run out of battery life from sitting in here so long_. I thought nothing more of it as I stepped out of the elevator.

On the ledge where I now stood was a strange-looking tank. It had obviously lost power, as it sat harmlessly to one side of the door. I walked past it, sparing no more than a cursory glance, and opened the next door.

I swung my flashlight around the room, looking at its contents. It seemed to be some sort of central planning or briefing room. On the left side of the room were various electronic devices; many were twisted and mangled, but many still looked functional. An evil-smelling purple river poured through a passageway to my right. A huge desk with the World Three logo on it stood in front of me, along with a globe and a statue of Wily. A huge plasma screen dominated the wall behind it – it would have easily been twenty feet wide by fifteen tall. Surrounding everything was the fuzzy smell of the dust that lay like thick carpet beneath my feet.

I decided to snoop around here a little bit – this looked like a prime spot to find some things that would be of use to me in my new home. The computers against the wall were mostly burnt-out hulks, torched from the inside. On a hunch, I reached behind one of the intact ones. I prised off a large, heavy mass: it was yellowish-gray, and extremely malleable. It looked to me like C2 plastic explosive. I smiled – Wily may have been many things, but an explosives engineer was not one of them. It looked like he had a failsafe to take the building down if anything happened to Alpha. Luckily for Lan and his friends, it didn't work. Wily did a really lousy job of wiring the explosives, and it seemed that what did go off was too little to do any real structural damage. Mind you, a grenade in the right place could probably bring the whole complex crashing into the ocean, but I wasn't planning on stocking any grenades in here, that's for sure.

It was time to move on. I walked around the desk to the waiting elevator and stepped inside, pressing the "UP" button. I thought back to what Lan had said when I had talked to him last…

_Lan and I were sitting at a table, playing cards. It was kind of odd – we were playing poker, but we didn't have any money. He was broke for once, which was definitely out of character. Lan was the kind of guy who kept very good track of his spending habits, and I queried him about it._

_"Hey Lan."_

_"Yeah, Sean?" he replied, looking at me curiously as he laid down three cards and drew from the pile._

_"Why is it you don't have any money? I mean, you're the kind of guy who goes around with fifty bucks of emergency money stashed in his wallet. Did you finally buy a new car instead of that old bomb you drive around here?"_

_He looked at me with furrowed brows. "Well," he sighed, "I guess I can tell you. I decided to propose to Mayl, and I bought her a ring. I'm a little short because of that."_

_I stared at him, surprise and delight spreading through the annoyance clouding my brain. I had a really bad hand, but all of a sudden I felt like I had just drawn a royal flush. "That's awesome, Lan! When are you going to ask her?"_

_He grinned and looked down at his hand. "Well, I was going to ask her out to dinner next week and pop the question to her. Hopefully it goes well."_

_"All the best," I replied. I raised my beer in salute. "To Lan and Mayl, and may they have a happy life."_

_He lifted his frosted mug then brought it to his lips. "Thanks, Sean." As he set the beer back down, he glanced at his hand again. "Show," he smirked, throwing his cards down on the table with a practiced air. "Full house."_

_I scowled, tossing my hand across the table. "Pair," I growled. "Some fellows have all the luck."_

_"Indeed," he murmured, shuffling the deck._

Indeed. Lan was like Midas – everything he did turned to gold. Whereas I, on the other hand, had had nothing but trouble my whole life. Some of it, of course, was self-made, but some was not of my own making at all.

I remember the day my parents died. It was a glorious day outside, a day which would make an artist reach for his brushes, a poet scramble for his pens, a young boy dig out his bat and ball. My father was English, my mother Japanese, so we lived in England for my dad's job. I was out with some of my friends playing football in the park. It's funny how you remember the little things about momentous times in your life – I remember acutely that the grass had been freshly mown. The smell of it I can conjure up as if it was yesterday; the same for the taste of the fizzy soda that one of the boys had brought in a cooler. The ice all melted and the soda was warm – I remember that. I was sitting under the picnic pavilion by the side of the field, drinking my warm soda and reveling in the breeze that ruffled my hair. I was feeling good; my parents were out of town on a business trip, and I was under the care of my benevolent Aunt Cindy, who was a bit lax on discipline. I was sitting on the bench under that pavilion, and I can see myself, all tired and sweaty from the match, drinking, my feet swinging back and forth under my chair, my hair sticky and clinging to my face, as she walked up to me. I remember how the clouds on her face seemed to darken the sky as she told me what had happened.

"Sean, your – your mom and dad are – not going to come back. There's been a horrific accident."

I wasn't stupid. I may have only been about seven, but I was already, as my mother termed it, a "precocious child". I knew immediately what had happened, and I began to feel numb.

"They are dead, then."

It wasn't a question. I knew, I _knew_, that they were gone. Adults always showed through their body language what was happening, and Aunt Cindy looked like she had been through a meat grinder.

On that day, my life changed forever. I was put permanently under Aunt Cindy's care, but ran away. Unlike most children, I thrived out on the street as a quick and crafty little thief. I was numb for months after my parent's died, holding the grief back. Finally, the pain came, and with it, an irrational yearning for vengeance. Not vengeance on any person in particular, but vengeance on the world.

I was unusually smart, as I said before. I took control of an aging Mafia faction called Gospel and built it into a powerhouse, taking control of the Internet. As a child, I was earning more than most grown men earn in a year. I was in charge of many illegal operations, and foremost among them was a plot to take over the Web. It progressed extremely quickly – I was almost successful.

Then Lan Hikari came along and destroyed my plans. Turned them into rubbish. Decimated them.

And he offered me friendship.

Lan showed me life – the life I had not had for several years. Normal life, without burning anger and vindictiveness. I spent a lot of time with his family and his friends; I was accepted almost as a part of the Hikari family. I visited frequently, and he and I would stay up to the small hours of the morning talking about our most guarded thoughts – he was me, and I was him. We were so different, yet as friends, we were as close as anyone could be.

I let go of Gospel. I returned the illegal merchandise, turned in the former members, but I kept a huge deposit of money in a bank account. Unlike most of the rest, it had been earned completely legally, from when I completed short-deadline assignments on contract for several corporations. They were extremely happy to pay me whatever amount I wanted, because my work was excellent. I could design a program in a day when it would take a week for anyone else. Because of that, I had a huge stash of emergency money filed away. Not even Lan knew about it, and that had been my salvation.

Lan had been my best friend.

And now…

I was shaken out of my reverie by the sound of the door opening. The elevator had reached its destination, and I exited it, leaving the ghosts of my past behind me. I walked up a flight of stairs, then down a long slope, reaching the next door and entering.

I was in a long rectangular room. Shining the flashlight off to my left, I could see the nasty-smelling purple river again, and beyond it the room from which I had recently come. The floor of the room was covered with power and data cables, lying like thick bundles of electrified spaghetti messily slopped around. Along the sides of the room were many of some odd type of machine, the same kind I had seen in the first room. Curious, I stepped closer and shone my flashlight on the side, where I could read the inscription. It read _Pulse Transmission System Prototype version 0.8.9.1 WARNING! USE OF THIS SYSTEM COULD CAUSE INJURY OR DEATH!_

I suddenly remembered Lan mentioning the machine to me before. He said that Cossack had used it, and had nearly died when Bass attacked him. He also mentioned that he had actually used it himself, with Megaman, and that they had survived unhurt. It was ingenious. The person would sit in the integrated chair, and the visor would come down over the head. Electrodes would then come out of the visor and attach to the skull so that the person could control the picture without any physical input whatsoever. The person would be able to jack into the virtual world just like a NetNavi. The images of the 3D web would be scanned to the visor, which shined a retinal-painting laser into the eye. The technology made the image seem holographic, or three-dimensional. The only downside to this technology was that if one was hurt in cyberspace, one would be hurt in real life, as a consequence of the increased immersion of the experience. Chances were good that the electrodes could shock you badly enough to cause a fatal stroke. It was enough to make one think soberly about what he was doing before he consented using one. But anyway, I was on a mission, and I did not have time to waste here.

I walked to the end of the room, through a curtain of hanging cables, and stepped through the doorway. Out here was a stone-flagged passageway covered with debris, and at the end a tank with a drill on the front – rather odd-looking, but Wily had some rather strange design ideas. To the right of the tank was a set of double doors. I stepped through them into the final chamber of Wily's WWW castle.

The room was large, three times as large as any I had been through previously. In front of me stretched a large flight of stairs, leading up to a large area dominated by six of the Pulse Transmission Systems. I walked slowly up the stairs, shining the flashlight in front of me. All of the other areas had been affected to some degree or another by the bomb blasts, but this one seemed intact. Slowly I walked across the floor and stopped, incredulous.

One of the PTS's had power running to it.

I looked at it, surprised. I had thought power to the whole base had been cut, but for some reason, this one was still running.

Maybe…

But no. He wouldn't have…

But maybe…

I shook off my doubts and proceeded to the PTS. I sat down in the integrated chair and set Cossack's PET in the slot. Maybe it had some data I could salvage. After preparing myself, I pulled the visor over my head; it slid down slowly, with a soft _hiss_, finally engaging with a _click_. I felt the electrodes come out of the wall and attach to my head; it felt slightly like being probed by an octopus, and felt vaguely disturbing. Finally, it turned the display on. I had a brief instant of lightheadedness, then suddenly I found myself in a Cyberworld.

This was a small square floor area, with a few Navi-shaped AI programs and a couple of mystery data diamonds. I stepped forward…and all of a sudden was greeted with a huge power console display that shimmered into existence in front of me. It lit up with a soothing glow as I walked slowly towards it. Suddenly, it began to speak.

_Greetings, Sean Obihiro,_ it intoned in a deep bass. I seemed to feel rather than hear its voice. _I have waited for you._ The console seemed to fold open in the center, and I felt a huge source of power in the Cyberworld. The view of the scene seemed to shift and shimmer from it. I watched entranced as the panel seemed to swing wide open, and a Navi stepped out.

A cloaked Navi.

A Navi with tall, black and yellow crests on his head.

I stumbled backwards in surprise and shock. "Bass…no…impossible…"

"But it is possible," he replied, smirking. "I am not as weak as you seem to think, Obihiro. Your friend Lan and his Megaman have tried to delete me upwards of a dozen times." He smiled suddenly. "They failed. But those were the days! I loved those epic battles. It was rather…refreshing to have someone that was a bit of a challenge, and invigorating to be beaten for once. But I digress from my purpose."

"What do you want of me?" I replied. "If you had wanted to kill me, your power over the Cyberworld would have been enough to kill me a dozen times over. You must want something else." Bass looked at me evenly. "You are as perceptive as I heard. I do not wish to kill you. I merely pursue my dream."

"What is your dream, Bass?"

"Power," he replied. "Without Lan, Megaman would be deleted easily. Megaman is pitifully weak without Lan. I am incredibly strong, but the relationship Lan and Megaman have gives them so much power! I am not easily awed, but the strength I felt flowing from Megaman last time we battled left me thunderstruck. I had no knowledge of anything that could give that much power to a battler, and I asked him, as he finished me, what the source of his power was. He replied, 'Lan and I work together, and when we work together, something greater than the sum of its parts comes out.' I have to find that power, and I believe you are the best one to help me." He frowned. "There is another reason, too. I believe that you are on the run from the Officials, yes?"

I had to agree. "Yes, that's common knowledge."

Bass smirked. "Well then, I am guessing you could use another's help. I believe you are innocent. However, convincing the Officials of your innocence will be a task of monumental proportions. You will probably need any and all help I could give you."

"So," I summed up, "you want to become my Navi?"

"That would be basically what I am saying, yes."

"Well then," I said dryly, "I accept. You can be of some use to me, and I can be of some use to you. I have Cossack's PET plugged into the machine."

Bass turned to me with an arch look. "Yes, I am aware of that. When you turned it on, it sent a signal into the Net, which automatically contacted me."

I tried not to look shocked. "How did you rig that up?"

"Come now, Sean, are you that ignorant? I used to reside in that PET before I threw off all service to those who created me. Do you really think it would be that hard for me to add something to the internal code?"

"Okay, Bass, if you want to, the link to the PET is over there." I pointed to a glowing pad on the Cyberworld floor. Suddenly I remembered what I came for. "Oh, Bass, do you by any chance know how to turn on the power to this complex?"

Bass made no reply, but stepped over to the power console he had stepped from and began to push buttons and flip switches. I heard a distant hum and the words _Power restarted. Emergency power offline._ He stepped away from the console with a satisfied look and stepped onto the PET link.

I formed the words _Jack out_ in my head. I felt lightheaded for a moment, then my head cleared and I was back in the real world. I lifted the visor and realized the internal lights were back on in the complex. I turned to the PTS and lifted my PET out of the slot. "Bass, are you in there?" I said. He looked at me through the screen. "I am. Right now I am taking stock of the programs contained in my old home," he replied. "You can upload me to the main computer in Wily's briefing room if you want to. From there, I can access the entire Net, and I also have control over the entire fortress. And," he continued, "I have more processing power at my disposal there. With that power, I can hack as well as Searchman."

"Right," I said as I backtracked to the Briefing Room. "I think I'll do just that."

(S)(S)(S)

Eugene Chaud was not happy. He was not happy at all. That Sean had gotten cleanly away from every Official unit sent to chase him, plus the FBI that Chaud had called in, plus every police officer in the United States! And right now, he was having to face a very angry Lan Hikari, sitting across the desk from him and voicing his objections to the current situation very loudly.

"I know what you're saying, Chaud. I really do. But I don't think Sean would go off and do something like this. He's changed from what he was." Lan's face was drained and white. He and Chaud had had this argument over ten times already, but Lan wasn't going to give up.

Chaud rubbed his temples. The strain of the past few days was beginning to get to him; he was wasted from the around-the-clock investigation that had been going on. He stared into his mug of coffee as if searching for the magic solution, the Holy Grail that would save his job, save his friend, and save him from dying of exhaustion. He had a killer headache, and Lan was only making it worse.

"I realize that, Lan. I don't believe it either. But you do have to admit that the evidence is completely against him. I mean, he was seen by everyone at that bank." Chaud looked covertly at Lan, trying to see if his message had gotten through.

"I know," Lan said, "but I don't much care for this investigation."

"Nor do I, Lan, but we have to do our jobs."

Lan sighed. "All right," he sighed. "I'll go back to the office and get Megaman scouring the net again. I'll be there if you need me." He looked at Chaud worriedly. "You need to take a break, Chaud. You've been two days without sleep, and you have huge black bags under your eyes. Take a rest. I'll cover for you."

"No," said Chaud weakly. "I have a job to do."

Lan raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear the first time, Chaud." He pointed at the couch. "Get your fat butt over there and get some sleep. I'm taking over."

"All right," said Chaud. "If you insist." He lay down on the couch and fell asleep immediately.

(S)(S)(S)

"I have embarked virus spies all over the Net," Bass said. "We should know more in a few hours."

"Excellent," I said. "I'm going to hit the sack, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," replied Bass. "I am able to handle everything for now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long for me to post a new chapter. I was down in Australia on a **_**long**_** trip and I wasn't able to do too much work on this story. However, I am back now and am able to continue Sean's saga. This is a work in progress, so minor edits may still take place in preceding chapters as I go through the story. It won't be anything major, maybe a word or two here and there that were not quite right, or a typo that needed fixing. Enjoy this next installment! – **_**Professor Obihiro**_

_**Guilty until proven innocent. – anonymous**_

**Redemption**

**Chapter 2**

_Sean…_

_Sean…_

_I saw my parents in front of me, my father holding a cricket bat, my mother standing over his shoulder, smiling at me. I looked up at my dad. "Dad, when are we going to be able to go play cricket?" He grinned. "We'll go now." "All right!" I squealed._

_Gray mists swirled round them as they disappeared into phantoms, hidden from me, and I felt an ache in my chest as they lost their physical forms…_

_Sean…_

_SEAN!_

"SEAN OBIHIRO!"

I blinked and sat up, a metallic, fuzzy taste in my mouth. I was lying on the floor of the Command Center in Wily's WWW Castle. On the massive screen in front of me, Bass's pixilated features were screwed up in irritation. "Finally…you have awoken," he said through the sound system. "I thought that I would have to turn on the fire extinguisher system to free you from slumber." "Very funny," I grumbled. I was never very happy in the mornings, mainly because I felt absolutely horrible when I woke up.

"What news do you have for me this morning, Bass?" I growled, wiping the sand from the corners of my eyes.

"Well," he replied, drawing the word out, "I have a bank surveillance video here from the bank which was robbed, supposedly by you. Do you want to play it?"

"Yes," I replied, and he disappeared. The screen turned black, then went to the video.

I saw the interior of a local Bank of America on the grainy footage. The counter was in view, along with all of the clients that came into the building. I watched as the tellers packaged up money and passed it out to the depositors in small wads. A normal workday for them.

Then all of a sudden something changed. A man in a black trench coat walked into the frame and I felt a sudden chill down my spine. "Bass, pause that video." He did. "Now zoom in on that man's face and enhance." The picture slid to the one face in the crowd, then blurred for a second as the software worked, then cleared again.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't speak.

It was me. Not just sort of looking like me, stunt-double type of thing. It was the same face. It was the same clothes, same hairstyle, same _everything_ as I had been wearing that day.

But it was not me.

I knew where I had been that day, and that was not me.

(S)(S)(S)

_I sat at my kitchen table, nursing a mug of coffee. It was the perfect cup – thick, black, and strong enough to curl my hair. I was horribly tired after an all-night programming session and needed something caffeinated to give me the boost to get on with life. I knew that staying up all night staring at a computer screen and starting the day with coffee wasn't the most healthy of choices, but it was only once in a while that I did it, and I earned plenty of money off the rush-job programming that I did. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a white turtleneck, sculled the rest of my drink in one gulp, grabbed my trench coat and walked out the door of my studio apartment._

_The air was crisp and clean as I walked down the street. I lived on Long Island, New York, and it was just coming into autumn. The leaves of the trees in my apartment complex were spinning down the paths as I walked, and the clouds above me scudded before the wind like the yachts that filled the sea surrounding my home. _I live for days like this_, I thought as I unlocked my car._

_I rolled down the street, listening to the morning show on the local soft rock station. The DJ's were up to their usual inane antics, tormenting the interns at the studio and occasionally playing a song. I let it go in the background as I sorted out what I had to do today. I listened with half an ear to the news – the same old stories with different names. A suicide bombing in what was left of Israel, the usual stock market ups and downs, some robber in Germany who got stuck in a window, a bank robbery in New York City…what was the world coming to?_

_I rolled into the local net café at about ten o'clock in the morning, having bought myself a danish and another cup of coffee at the coffee shop on the corner of my street. Walking into the building, I automatically surveyed the interior to see if anyone suspicious was in there. This was an unfortunate carryover from my days as the leader of Gospel – every time I went into a public place, I automatically surveyed it for escape routes or people that might take more than a passing interest in me, and I knew the makes and models of the cars outside, maybe even the tag numbers if it was a small enough place. In the small net café, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The regulars were all in their places, and I nodded a greeting to each of them as I passed by on my way to an open computer. There was Nadia, the punk – she had a new piercing today, and her hair had an extra pink streak in it. Not bad looking, despite all that, but definitely not my type. Then there was Richard, the retiree, checking the news. He was nursing a cup of tea that he had obviously brought from home. Behind him was Don, the skinny, bright-white geek who took part-time classes at a local college. He was munching a Twinkie, and the can of Red Bull sitting next to the keyboard at his station did not bode well for his overall well-being. The idea of Red Bull at this time in the morning made me feel ill. I found the computer that I always used and slumped into the chair, setting the danish and coffee alongside the keyboard._

_I logged into the system with a couple of quick keystrokes and opened the web browser to check my emails. _Okay, Viagra advertisements, get-rich-quick schemes, free software, a couple from my business associates – open those later, one from Lan, one from Mayl…hello! What's this?_ One of the emails was a 256-bit encrypted message, sender unknown._

_I had given my personal encryption to only a few people. Wily and Regal at Scilab knew it. Lan and his dad knew it. A few of my old friends from the Gospel days knew it. Chaud knew it, and that was all. How many…eight people knew that encryption. If it was being used, that meant either sensitive information or an emergency. How many of those people had the expertise to spoof an email program to not know the sender? Probably five of those. I looked around. No one was watching, so I inserted the key and opened the email._

"Sean,

You are going to be picked up by the Officials on charges of internet fraud, robbery, and murder. Somehow (I will not say how) I know it wasn't you. I am tipping you off so you can leave. A young man of your background always has options to choose from; I'm not naïve enough to think that you don't have plans in place for this sort of situation. Use them. Get out and prove your innocence, or you won't have a chance. There are people in high places who want your head, attached or not. Leave as soon as you receive this email, for your sake.

A friend"

_I leaned back in my chair, my eyes wide in disbelief, the pulse hammering in my ears. I couldn't see the computer in front of me. If this was true, my life was shattered. By degrees I returned to normal, breathing deeply to counteract my racing heart and impose some order on the fragments of my life. I had to think. Clear my head, clear my mind…_what do I need? A park somewhere, where I can sit under a tree and take stock of my situation. If this is true, it may be too risky to go home, so I need to get some money. Step will have some for me. Some of my old Gospel associates can help with other things. A car…they'll have the description and tags from mine by now. _I quickly logged off the system as I munched my danish. Food and sleep were what I needed. "Rest is a weapon", Ludlum said in his books, and that was certainly true for me. I needed a nap, but I didn't have time for one right now. What I did have to have time for was a change in my appearance. _Hat, gloves, different coat, something to throw off any pursuers that might have my description…no! They don't know what I'm wearing yet. All I need to disguise is my face somehow. And my walk and build. That will work if I can do that, then I can walk back to my apartment and see what the situation is there. _With this in mind, I walked up to Richard. "Richard, I need a favor from you," I said. He looked up at me with bleary eyes. "I may be able to help you – what is it, Sean?" I looked at him apologetically. "I need to borrow your hat. This may sound slightly ridiculous, but it's an emergency." He fished around in his bag for it, then handed the shapeless beret to me with a bemused look. "Here you go, and may it do you good. How will I get it back?" I sighed inwardly – I wasn't quite sure, but then I got a flash of inspiration. "Richard, you know where my apartment is, right? Someone will be there, they'll give it back to you if you ask for it."_

_I pulled the floppy beret over my eyes and shuffled out the door, changing my gait as much as I could. There – outside the door! Two men stood on the sidewalk across the road, waiting to cross on the crosswalk. One was standing on the right side of the door, dressed in coarse clothes and work boots, smoking a fag. A van with blacked-out windows sat across the road. All the men had hard, alert eyes. Soldiers' eyes, policemen's eyes, criminals' eyes – the eyes of those who were aware of their surroundings. They were looking for me. My mind began to race as I studied them from under the shapeless hat. They were here – that meant they knew my usual haunts. It was likely that all of them were staked out. I was certain that they were at my apartment. _Can't go back home, I'll be picked up for sure. Sorry, Richard. No time to go to a park and think; that luxury means wasting precious minutes. Every second the noose draws tighter.What do I need if I'm going to get away?_ I mentally reviewed the list as I shambled down the sidewalk. I had nothing as far as clothes, but I could buy those wherever I wanted to. I was properly clothed. I had a palm-size computer in my pocket and a PET with a few programs on it. My lock picks were in my pocket. About all that I needed was money and wheels, and I knew where to go for those. With that in mind, I walked down the street for about two miles and caught a bus to Brooklyn._

_I got off the bus at a stop in the seedy part of town. A few kids were playing a game of baseball in the street, and others were whacking tennis balls against a crumbling brick wall. I walked up to a ramshackle old warehouse signposted "Step's Garage" and yelled, "Hey Step, you gonna open up for an old friend?" As the echoes of my shout died away inside the building, the dingy steel door in front of me opened and Stepan Papadakis stepped out. His thick features immediately lit up as he saw me. "SEAN! Long time no see, old man!" He crushed me in an iron bear hug and led me inside._

_As I went through the front room, I saw that not much had changed since I had been there last. Step was never known for his cleanliness, and the waiting area was strewn with filthy ashtrays and overflowing bins of trash. A lazy fly sat on the chair by his grime-encrusted window as he led me to his office. Closing the door, he sat behind a desk piled high with car magazines and greasy parts and said, "So, whut can I do fa you today, Sean? You want a ca chopped, you want sumfin you can't find anywhea else, you lookin fa someone, you need money?" His accent was thick enough to lean against, thickened by years of living in the hard side of town and roughened by the tobacco he poisoned himself with. He lit up a cigarette, and I struggled to hide how much I hated the smoke._

_"Yeah, Step, I gotta get my money out from you. You got some of it buried in offshore accounts, doncha?" He nodded and tapped the glowing red ash from his cig. "Yeah, I did that like you wanned, but I still got forty thou' left here. All of it yours." He stepped over to the wall and spun the dial on the safe. I held up a hand and stopped him. "Wait." He looked at me, puzzled. I stepped over to him and said, "You keep money from all of your clients in _this_?" "Yeah," he growled defensively. "Guy down at the shop, he sed it wuz the best, y'know?" I motioned him away with one hand and stepped up to the safe. Turning my back, I spun the dial. Then I stepped up to the safe, put my ear to the door and turned the dial slowly, listening for the telltale clicks as the tumblers slipped into place. In two minutes I had cracked the safe and pulled out my money. I looked at Step and said, "My advice to you is: Get a better safe. By the way, do you have a cheap, anonymous car that I can buy off you? Extra points if it's fast." He nodded, shaken, and motioned me out the door. That was good. I wanted him nervous, for despite the fact that I called him "friend", he most certainly was not. If he thought he had a chance, he would rob me blind. Now that he knew what my capabilities were, he would be most careful not to make me an enemy._

_We walked into the warehouse portion of the building, where men were busy disassembling and reassembling cars, filing off serial numbers, and loading pieces into trucks. Step led me around the back of the building to a car lot and gestured grandly at a small, nondescript four-door. "What is that?" I asked. He grinned, showing a mouthful of broken, tobacco-stained teeth. "That thea, Sean, is a Honda Civic, 2004 model, green, with 100,000 miles on it. What that doesn't tell you is that she has aw-wheel-drive an' a crate engine." I surveyed the car. Nondescript, small, dinged up a bit, good motor… "0-60? Quarter?" I asked. "She'll do a 5-second 0-60 and a 15-second quarter, and rip it through the slalom too." I grinned. If I needed the speed, I had it. "Tags? Registration?" He gave me a canny glance. "They'll hold up ta any cazuel 'spection. Do I look like I'm stupid or sumpin, old man?" _Perfect_, I thought, as I nodded curtly at him. "It'll do. What's the cost?" He looked at me cannily from under his vast bushy eyebrows. "Ten thou'," he finally answered. "You're robbing me," I retorted to him. "I'll pay six." "Seven," he countered. "She's in good shape, an' you're takin' edventage of my friendship." "Done," I replied, and passed him the bills._

_Within five minutes I was rolling north with only the clothes on my back, a set of lock picks, and $33,000 dollars in a plastic bag underneath the passenger seat. I contemplated my next order of business. _Change my appearance…they probably will have a description of what I am wearing by now. I need to buy some new clothes somewhere along the way, and I should dye my hair.

_Maybe I should just explain something here. I was blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with a very distinctive look. I'm tall (around six feet three inches) and slim, with a wiry physique – strength without bulk. My karate teacher told me I moved "like a panther", light on my feet. My hair, due to a genetic anomaly, is prematurely gray. Probably my most noticeable feature is my eyes, set deeply under my brows and colored a light reddish-brown. All of these things combine to make me incredibly hard to disguise._

_I found a Wal-Mart at one of the exits along the highway and headed in after hiding my hair with the floppy beret. It was a bit of a gamble to even go into the place, but I was betting that the dragnet wouldn't have extended this far yet. In hindsight, it seems a miracle that I wasn't picked up. However, at the time, I wasn't worried. I walked through as if I owned the place, picked up some clothes and other necessaries, and walked out. Simple as that. Once I exited, I picked up some food from a McDonald's drive-through and hit the road again._

_I had decided to go north, to Maine. The country up there was sparse enough that I reckoned I could escape attention for a day or two while I figured out what to do. Once I arrived there, I checked into a local ratbag motel and dyed my hair a whitish blond._

(S)(S)(S)

Two days later, I was on the WWW Island, battling the turmoil of my mind as I watched myself do things that I had never done. The fragmented images from the video imbedded themselves in my mind and tore at me like knives. I saw the man walk in – me, right down to the very clothes; I saw people silently screaming as they fell to the floor in terror; I saw the man quickly gathering bundles of money and shoveling them into a bag; I saw the guard reach for his weapon and the quick spurts of fire captured by the camera as he went down, his hand still spasmodically clutching for the weapon as his life drained into a pool around him; I saw the murderer, who was me and not me, as he ran out the back door into the alley. An avalanche of noise and pictures rushed over me as my mind tried to comprehend the magnitude of the images I saw. "That…is not…me…," I whispered as my brain whirled with madness.

Bass watched me quietly and impassively as I struggled with my feelings. "That is the only trace I have been able to find of what you are supposed to have done." I slowly came back to reality with his cold words. "Where…where do we go to find out more?" His face became grimmer on the monitor. "We need to get into the Scilab database, and you and I can't do that." I sighed. I just knew this would be harder than it looked. "Who can do that?" I asked. "There are only a handful of hackers in the world that are up to it," Bass replied. "Six, to be exact. Two are imprisoned, three work for Scilab, and one is a fugitive."

"Well, we had better get started then, shouldn't we?" I told him.

(S)(S)(S)

Lan Hikari sat at his desk and sighed. Nothing seemed to be going right at the moment, and Chaud was still sleeping. Lan definitely did not want to be the one to wake his boss up, so he let Chaud rest. However, the sheer number of "Sean" sightings was immense – an incredibly large number of people had seen a man who looked like Sean, and of course every sighting had to be checked out. Lan had stayed up all night trying to assign personnel to the investigations and go through every scrap of data the massive manhunt was compiling. He rubbed the black bags under his eyes tiredly, aware of his dropping energy level, and thought about the path that had led him here.

Scilab had started out as just a research institution, but had grown far beyond that, first with the introduction of the Officials, then the special-action teams of Operations. It was an independent agency of the United Nations, tasked with research into and safeguarding of the Net and other advanced connective technologies. It was divided into three departments: Research, Investigations, and Operations. Research was the area where the net researchers and scientists worked on new technology, where almost every new development in electronics had started in the past couple of years. Investigations was the in-house electronic crime unit, of which the Officials were part. The various detectives, Officials, and shadowing patrols all worked under this department. The newest and smallest department was Operations, which was tasked with internal security, SWAT team missions, covert extractions, and covert actions. Each section was denoted with its own internal nickname: Research scientists were "eggs", the Investigations jocks were "wireheads", and Ops soldiers were "iron-eaters". There was a good deal of rivalry between the different departments, and the employees of each thought theirs to be the most important.

Lan had not wanted this job. Ever since he had been very young, he had harbored a dream of working for Scilab in the capacity of a scientist. However, when he applied, he was sent to Investigations. There were no openings in Research, not even for the son of the famous Yuuchiro Hikari. Instead, he worked as the electronics specialist in Investigations, closely involved with his friend and rival Eugene Chaud. Lan had a large amount of expertise in investigations, as a result of breaking up Netcrime rings so many times, but his first love was science. He longed to make the switch to Research, but was patiently biding his time until he could reapply for a vacant position.

One of the things Lan hated about his job was the amount of time it was taking up. He hardly had any social life anymore – it was all he could do to scrounge a little time to see Mayl every now and then. He frequently spent eighteen hours a day in the office when Chaud needed someone with his unique skills. Since the Obihiro case had begun, he had never left the office, not even to sleep. He was nearing the end of his rope.

There was a stirring on the couch at the other end of the room as Chaud groaned, then sat up on the cushions. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and yawned. "How long did I sleep?" he groaned. Lan looked up at him. "You got a full night's sleep over there, probably about eleven hours. It's just past six in the morning." Chaud ran a hand through his mussed hair and shuffled over to the desk. "Coffee?" he asked. Lan jerked his head towards the pot that sat on his bookshelf. Chaud poured himself a cup, snagged a donut from the box lying open on the desk, and looked over Lan's shoulder at his computer screen. "Anything new?" Lan grinned wearily. "Sean's been sighted in a hundred and twenty-one different places, from Long Island to Los Angeles. I've been assigning people to investigate each one individually. You know, you would think with the advent of all this technology…" "Yeah," Chaud answered.

The monitor suddenly lit up as Megaman and Protoman returned to the computer. "Finally," sighed Lan. "Did you find anything new?" Protoman frowned. "Not a thing," he answered. "No sign of him on our cameras – not surprising. We don't have them everywhere, and we don't have authorization or hacking power for private camera networks. He hasn't been sending emails. He never had much on his homepage even before this. His PET phone function is turned off, and the GPS locator is off as well. No action on his bank records. Nobody said Sean wasn't smart." The office was silent. Chaud swore quietly and pounded his fist into his hand. "Nothing, then?" Megaman shook his pixilated head. "No, nothing."

(S)(S)(S)

James Ashcroft strode up the stairs in Scilab Headquarters. He never took the elevator – that was the lazy way. James Ashcroft never did anything the lazy way; the weak did things the lazy way, and he would never be weak. No. He was one of the strong, one of the kingmakers. He had power, as the right hand of Scilab's head, chief of the Officials, and chief of Operations (or Ops, as it was known within Scilab). The thought made him smile inwardly. Oh yes, he had power, and power was to be used by the strong, for the weak were lacking in the strength to use it properly.

He turned the corner at the top of the stairs, nodded to the guard standing there, and continued to walk down the hallway, never breaking stride. A secretary walked past with some documents, casually scanned his face, then gazed at him again with veiled interest. He swept past, not deigning to notice her. He had tasks to accomplish that were more important than flirting with some little fool of a secretary. Walking along the passage, he continually scanned the passersby from behind his mirrored sunglasses. They were a useful tool, sunglasses. So important to not let the other person see your eyes…so much could be learned from the eyes…his mind wandered as his body continued on autopilot.

Ashcroft headed to one of the doors at the far end of the hall, pulled out his key card, and opened it. He was the only one with access to this door. Stepping into the chamber behind it, he removed his glasses and put his face up to the retinal scanner. The door buzzed as a smooth, accentless female voice said "_Please say your name_." "James Alexander Ashcroft", he confidently repeated to the microphone. The door buzzed again, then clicked and slid open. He stepped into the next room and finally came to the door he was looking for, a large, thick slab of oak that swung smoothly Sopen on oiled hinges. He gently closed the heavy door, holding the handle so that the latch only made a slight _click_.

David Yamata, the reclusive head of Scilab, was leaning back in his leather office chair. His eyebrows rose slightly at this intrusion, but he held his peace. He self-consciously ran a hand through his silver hair as he stood from behind his massive oak desk. "Hello, James," he said to the brawny black man standing before him. "What news do you bring me? Surely you have not already taken Obihiro?"

Ashcroft permitted himself the faintest ghost of a smile, almost imperceptible even to Yamata's practiced eye. "No, not as good as that. It is good, though. I just received word that we know where Tamsin Brown is hiding. We should be able to pick her up early tomorrow morning." David Yamata's face darkened. "Excellent," he said, with a macabre grin. "You know, I approached her a while back about inclusion in the Project." Ashcroft inclined his head slightly. "I did not know. What became of that?" Yamata frowned. "She was…rather disinclined to assist. She preferred receiving money to doing the job for only the truth's sake. I represented to her the grave dangers inherent in such an approach, the imminent chance of capture by the authorities. She nevertheless chose to follow her perilous path, and I had no choice but to reveal some of her activities to the right people. Then, as you know, she vanished into thin air before she could be taken care of." He reflected for a moment. "Perhaps it was for the best that she did not join us. Despite her undeniable talents, she was not pure enough for our cause." James Ashcroft merely nodded at that. Yamata cleared his throat. "Who will you put on the retrieval team?" "We have Team 2, Rodriguez's group, ready to go at a moment's notice," Ashcroft replied. "They will handle the actual retrieval. We borrowed Regal and Stafford, a couple of eggs, to coordinate the phone and Net taps. Rodriguez will handle the operation – he will be the op coordinator, probably sitting in a van in a side street while the ops guys go in. It should be foolproof – by this time tomorrow, I plan on having Tamsin Brown in a very secure holding cell downstairs."

(S)(S)(S)

Doctor Thomas Regal was very surprised to be summoned upstairs into the briefing room. He had never been there before – he had thought that it was only for Ops people or Officials. He entered the room nervously, his hands unconsciously adjusting his loose tie. As he stepped through the doorway, he paused to look over those present. There seemed to be several iron-eaters, distinguished by their heavy layers of muscle, sitting around the table already. At the head of the table stood a tall, strong-looking black man, wearing mirrored sunglasses. That had to be James Ashcroft; the mirrored shades were one of his many eccentricities, and the subject of countless interoffice jokes. There were two chairs unfilled. As Regal moved to sit down, the door flew open again and Doctor Charles Stafford stuck his cadaverous, acne-pocked face through the opening. "A-a-am I l-late?" he stuttered, walking to the last chair. "No, Dr. Stafford, you are not. Shall we commence?" said Ashcroft. One of the iron-eaters muttered something under his breath about "pencil-necked eggheads", but was silenced when Ashcroft's cold face turned towards him, the glare apparent even behind his sunglasses.

"Gentlemen," he started, "just a few minutes ago, I received intelligence of the whereabouts of Tamsin Brown. This name will probably not be familiar to most of you, but she is one of the foremost hackers in the world. Her illegal activities have caused untold harm to many European countries and even the United States. For a long time now, she has been stealing the secrets of these countries and selling them to her employers. Who her employers are we can only speculate, based on rumors and hearsay, but they seem to include such rogue nations as North Korea, Iran, and China, and possibly terrorist groups as well." He paused to let that sink in. "Ms. Brown has caused much harm to the interests of the civilized world, and Scilab has been asked to put a stop to it by the United Nations. Up until now, we have not had any idea of where she may have been hiding. However, today we received word that she is living in Madrid. The folders sitting in front of you contain all of the information necessary for this retrieval operation. Your mission, as stated to me by Director Yamata, is to covertly apprehend Ms. Brown, put her onto the waiting Scilab charter plane, and escort her back here to be placed in one of the holding cells. Is that clear?" Emphatic nods ensued all around the table. "You have tickets on the first available flight to Madrid in those folders. Your flight leaves in two hours. Grab your overnight bags from home, come back here, board the van an hour from now, and head to the airport. You can skip straight through security. Move it, men!"

Regal headed out of the room in a daze. He had never been brought in for an operation of this type before. But a hacker…ah, it made sense now. They needed someone who could set up a Net surveillance. _Hmmm…_ He started to run through the checklist of things that he needed to bring for the op, but was rudely jolted out of his reverie by the vibration of his PET. "You've got mail!" said Axl, his Navi. "Can I check it for you, Doctor?" He chuckled. "Go ahead, Axl," he said. "Tell me what it says." Axl paused. "It's a secure, you're gonna have to open it yourself." _A secure?_ Regal's brow furrowed. He pulled the PET from the holster on his hip and opened the email screen. _Oh, boy. It's Sean. Let's see what he has to say._ He typed in the passcode and scanned his fingerprint for the system, and the message popped up on the screen.

_Regal,_

_Please advise as to the status of one Tamsin Brown – is there anything about her in the Scilab files? Need to enlist her services._

_S.O._

Regal swore violently as he began to type a reply on the miniature keyboard.

(S)(S)(S)

In the old WWW fortress, Sean felt the PET begin to vibrate on his hip. He checked the message manually, as Bass was still on the mainframe searching for information. His eyes hardened as he scanned the contents, then reread the missive more carefully. "Bass!" he snapped. Bass's head filled the wall screen. "Yes, Sean?" "Jack out! We're going to Madrid."

_**So what do you think so far? Read and review, because it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Tune in next chapter to see what happens once the action really gets rolling.**_


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